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I push the door of Ice Hot Coffeehouse open and run through a path of space between the chairs, shouting my apologies for how late I am. “Sorry, I got lost.” Out of breath, I’m wheezing while pulling my arms out of my white woolen coat.
“Again?” Kourtney shouts back, giggling.
“I need a map.” I hang my coat over the hook in the staff room and sling my bag over the top of it before unzipping my dress. Wiggling out of the tight fabric, leaving it in a blue puddle on the floor. I pull my jeans out of my locker and haphazardly toe off my navy pumps, before I push my legs into the tight denim.
“I’m so hot,” I pant, bouncing up and down on the spot to pull them up. “I rush around all the time. Why am I not a size zero?” I mutter, sucking in my stomach, struggling to fasten the top button, then close the zipper.
Fanning my face with my hand to cool me down before pulling my coffeehouse tee shirt over my head, I push my feet into my already-tied white sneakers simultaneously and I am ready to start my shift in record time. I’ve become a goddess at multitasking.
I throw my head back, inhaling the nutty roasted coffee scent, and eye the ceiling, taking a moment to catch my breath. Between working full time at High Octane Events, trying to figure out the maze of streets of Edmonton, and working evenings at Ice Hot, I can’t remember the last time I had a meal while sitting at a table.
Shoving food into my mouth while doing three things at once appears to have become a normal occurrence.
Grabbing my maroon apron, I tie the taped ribbons of it at the base of my spine, grab my dress off the floor, fold it before carefully placing it on a chair so I can wear it another day and then head out to start my shift at the coffeehouse.
I love it here. It doesn’t feel like work. It’s fun. We laugh a lot and Kourtney, who owns the place, has already become my closest friend; my only friend here in Edmonton. We eat together, we’ve been out for cocktails a couple of times, not that I am as much of a party girl as Kourtney is, but it was fun and she invited me to go out with her and a few of her friends to the opening of a new nightclub on Saturday night. She has VIP tickets, as apparently, she knows the guy who owns the club. I only agreed to go because she made a good argument about how I needed to make more friends, network, and get to know who’s who in the city.
She’s right and I swear she would make a better defense lawyer than a coffeehouse owner.
There are lots of other reasons I want to go too, but it has absolutely nothing to do with trying to find a broken-nosed brute of a man with an attitude bigger than the Empire State Building. Nope, nothing to do with that at all. But, you never know, if he is there, then I could perhaps speak to him, couldn’t I? Just to find out how his nose is healing, of course.
That’s a big fat lie. I want to see him again. But I haven’t seen him anywhere. It’s as if I dreamed him up.
Kourtney squirts whipped topping onto a mug full of steaming hot chocolate, then sprinkles a handful of mini marshmallows on top of the white mountain peak of sweetness. “One hot chocolate with the works.” Beaming a smile, she slides it across the counter to her customer, then turns to address me. “I thought you were finally getting the hang of the city.”
“I went left instead of right.” I sigh. Well, I think I did. Every boulevard, junction, and intersection looks the same to me. I wish they could color code streets like I do with my work planner. It would make everything so much simpler and easier to navigate.
“You are forgetting I’ve lived in New York for years, Kourtney. I’m the little country girl from Spruce Plain, and I only ever came to the city with my parents when I was younger, and they did all the navigating.” I never paid much attention.
Wiping the brushed stainless-steel counter, she laughs at me again. “You have no sense of direction.”
I really don’t. “Don’t ever ask me to read a map if we ever attempt a road trip together,” I warn, looking at the carnage of milk spills on the drainer of the complicated coffee machine I've yet to fully master, and shake jugs needing to be washed. There must have been a ton of takeout customers before I arrived because there are hardly any customers sitting in.
“Received and understood.” She salutes me in understanding. “Once you’ve cleaned all of that.” She points in the direction of the dishes. “Could you please make me a large, half whole milk, half no fat, no foam latte with a shot of vanilla please?”
“Wow, that’s specific,” I mutter.
I let out a low chuckle when she says, “He can be specific about anything.”
I cast a glance around the softly lit space in a search party for Mr. Specific.
“Oh, he’s in the bathroom. You won’t miss him when he comes out.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” Smirking, I turn my back on the seating area and get to work clearing up. I like order and tidiness, and I most definitely can’t work like this.
Within a few minutes, everything is sparkling, and the barista machine looks shiny and new again, so I make the first of at least one hundred drinks before my shift ends at nine tonight. I scan the order on the screen above my head and read it back, “Large, half whole milk, half no fat, no foam latte, shot of vanilla.” Easy.
Once it’s made, I check the name on the order on the screen, then place the coffee on the counter and call out. “Ash.”
My eyes search the small handful of customers, and that’s when I see him; grizzly bear bruised nose guy.
I didn’t dream him up after all.
He’s real.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lily
